


Of Stars and Moons

by gororororororo



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Aragaki Shinjiro Lives, M/M, Oblivious, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Slow Burn, They're both so oblivious and that's fantastic, Trans Akihiko Sanada, do i scrap like half of canon...maybe, its not super relevant but its implied occasionally and also trans akihiko rights
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27158203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gororororororo/pseuds/gororororororo
Summary: Akihiko remembers the date, remembers that it is October Fourth. Because of this...Shinjiro lives.
Relationships: Aragaki Shinjiro & Sanada Akihiko, Aragaki Shinjiro/Sanada Akihiko
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	1. Remember

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first legitimate fic in six years and oh boy this will be interesting. Dialogue at the beginning is ripped straight from the game, but this changes. I am also playing very fast and loose with canon!! Have fun I guess

Akihiko Sanada should have remembered the date. He tended to pride himself on his ability to remember, to act on his muscles and his memory to hit an enemy’s weak points. Whether that enemy was a Shadow, school exams, or an opponent in the boxing ring, it didn’t matter as long as he achieved success. His memory never failed him, but this time around was an exception the moment he woke up and thought the day would be just like every other. October the Fourth, the day Amada’s mother died and the day Shinjiro left for good. A day that carved its legacy into the minds of all unfortunate to have been affected by it, the day that changed everything for the worse. When he and Minato had managed to convince Shinji to rejoin SEES on that brisk September day it became a bright point in Akihiko’s bleak year, something to look forward to despite the clouded future. Living out his final year at Gekkoukan with his closest friend, being able to be with him, and possibly being able to mend the wounds of the past. He should have remembered the date.

As he steps out into the sickly glow of the moon reflecting onto Paulownia Mall, Akihiko casts a concerned glance at the others in the party after the defeat of Strength and The Wheel of Fortune. The battle had been difficult, as was most obvious by the state of Mitsuru who had been battered by lucky hits from Strength, thusly followed by status effects from the mocking game of the Wheel of Fortune. Mitsuru is heavily leaning on Yukari’s shoulder, the effects of shock still not fully worn off as she struggles to move forward. Akihiko watches quietly as Junpei slides over to the pair with an uncharacteristically drained look on his face, he quietly shifts Mitsuru’s free arm to support the other half of her body while Yukari shoots him a tired, thankful smile. Compared to the rest of them, Aigis is alert as ever, boring holes into the side of Minato’s head as he limps along with Koromaru happily trotting at his heels. They were wounded, but alive and that’s all that mattered to Akihiko at that moment.

He waves briefly to Fuuka as she hurriedly rushes to greet them, extreme panic evident on her face that melts into a content smile as she sees the rest of SEES in decent shape, “Good job, everyone!” she says breathlessly, moving closer to examine the lingering shock effect on Mitsuru before handing her a medicine to relieve the pain thusly guiding her to a nearby bench.

“Man, talk about exhausting,” Junpei sighs, lifting his ball cap to wipe his forehead with his sleeve. Akihiko hears the faint whirring of Aigis’s motor systems shortly after Junpei speaks up, “This time, those two who call themselves Strega did not interfere.” He remembers the Strega members they’ve encountered with clarity, the gaunt man with unnaturally yellow eyes, intricate tattoos coloring his arms with shades of gray, the man with the violently neon green jacket, and Chidori, the pale girl with long red hair currently laying in her hospital bed waiting for something to change. Akihiko knows she would have died a painful death, strangled by her own persona if Shinji hadn’t given her those damn pills. He knew it was the right thing for Shinjiro to do, but his fist still aches at the memory of the confrontation outside the hospital.

“Strega probably didn’t show up because we have Chidori,” Yukari pipes up with her voice regaining energy, “I’m glad everything went well with this fight,” she trails off her brow furrowing ever so slightly, “But, what happened to Shinjiro and Ken?“ Oh yes, the dreaded thought that Akihiko had been avoiding like the plague. Every moment that passes there’s an uneasy feeling in his chest that grows stronger every moment he thinks about what might have happened to the two. He hadn’t seen Ken for an entire three days, and hadn’t spoken to Shinjiro since the prior night. Although spoken was an excessive term for attempting to have a discussion that was only returned by a standoffish “goodnight” on Shinjiro’s part. It pains him to think how much things had changed since they were just kids in the orphanage, playing in the sullen backyard, laying in the summer grass holding Miki and Shinji’s hands and looking at the sky filled with a myriad of stars above. He wished he could go back, save Miki, help Shinjiro, do something di- “The Chairman doesn’t seem to be too concerned, so he went home,” Fuuka announces helpfully, snapping Akihiko out of his spiralling thoughts. 

Mitsuru stands up from the bench she was on, the shock finally having worn off, she moves over to the misshapen semi-circle the group is in sidling up to Yukari’s side, “Yamagishi, where are those two?”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t been able to locate them yet.” Fuuka looks down to the concrete, lips pursed, a downcast expression shadowing her pale face. Regardless of the assurances provided by the others earlier in the night, Akihiko couldn’t help listening to his thoughts, his frantically beating heart that constricted his chest, tightening his lungs every moment that passed. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew something was wrong, that something bad would happen. A crawling feeling itches under his skin, creeping through his veins making him feel more uncomfortable by the moment. He recognizes this feeling, one he felt when his parents died, when the fire at the orphanage happened, and it’s the same feeling he felt on October the Fourth. 

October the Fourth. The realization hits him when he recognizes the feeling, he begins to see his vision swim when he further connects the feeling to the date. He barely hears Mitsuru over the pounding in his head, “Akihiko, are you listening?” His throat is parched, dry of any ability to speak up. He bites his lip, redirecting his blank stare to meet Mitsuru’s worried crimson eyes. 

He opens his mouth to retort and feels his words jam in his throat, he chokes on his own breath for a moment. “I - ...today is October Fourth, huh?” he laughs humorlessly, a faint chuckle forcing its way out of his mouth. Mitsuru looks confused for a beat then her eyes widen imperceptibly, lips parting slightly as a dawning horror falls onto her face. Akihiko tears his vision away from her, seeing the others' glance at one another puzzled. “Just go back without me,” he pauses to recollect his nerves, “I think I’m gonna go look for them for a while, don’t worry,” he mutters stiffly. He spins on his heel, heading towards the inkling of where they might possibly be. 

Akihiko distantly hears Yukari call out for him, but his mind is too muddled to think of anything other than Shinjiro and Ken. Beginning in a fast walk, he escalates to the wind rushing through his hair as he breaks into an all out sprint towards the alley near Iwatodai station. Only one thought crossed his mind at that moment, he had to find them and make sure they were safe, no matter what. His thoughts stutter to a stop when a distant gunshot rings over the quiet of the Dark Hour and he feels his entire body freeze in terror, feet stuck to the ground. Screaming in his head to keep going he forces his legs to go faster, pushing himself to his absolute limit to reach the alleyway where Amada’s mother died. The city passes in a blur, a rush of the grays of the buildings and the chartreuse glow of the moon blending together into a revolting medley pigments that make him feel more nauseous than he already was.

Port Island Station is only a few hundred feet away now, with his lungs burning, Akihiko dashes around the corner where he sees a horrific scene unfold in front of him. His world crumbles to ash when he spots a crimson pool leaking across the concrete and Ken’s rigid form quaking in terror pinned underneath Shinjiro’s limp body. Takaya is gesturing wildly with his pistol, tilting his head to the moon with a maniacal laugh. Akihiko isn’t aware of the scream that tears from his throat when he collapses to Shinjiro’s side, barely noticing Takaya’s malicious grin and disappearance into the dark from the corner of his vision. As fast as he can, Akihiko lifts Shinjiro off of Ken and attempts to hold him still in his arms as best as he can.

Shinjiro, despite having been shot twice from what he can see, is surveying Akihiko’s face with a startlingly alert stare. “What,” Shinjiro groans, narrowing his eyes at Akihiko with a disgruntled frown, “-the hell are you doing, Aki?” Shinjiro coughs suddenly and blood spatters onto his shirt immediately making Akihiko’s blood run cold. Behind him, he perceives Ken beginning to hyperventilate with sobs racking his small frame. 

“Shinji, what happened?” Akihiko gasps, desperately applying pressure with his hands down onto where he was shot in the chest.

Shinjiro considers his words for a moment and makes a split second decision while bleeding out to be a smartass. “Well, I’ve been shot,” he utters almost as if stating a fact like the sky is blue or the grass is green. Akihiko closes his eyes in an attempt to diffuse his mounting emotions, his frustration at Shinjiro’s detached feelings regarding the dire circumstances. 

“Ken!” Akihiko shouts after a moment of silence, not removing his gaze from Shinjiro’s wounds. He can nearly feel in the air the way Ken tenses up at the shout, hands tightening into the cotton of his blood-smothered orange hoodie. “I need you to come over here and put pressure on his leg wound immediately.” Ken pauses for a brief moment before hurrying to Shinjiro’s wound and Akihiko notices the tears spilling down his rose-spotted cheeks as he does. Akihiko doesn’t know what all happened in the alley, but for a moment he lifts a hand to rest in comfort on Ken’s shoulder, quickly shifting back to cover Shinjiro’s wounds. Ken stares at him, bewildered before turning his attention back to healing. As he does Shinjiro involuntarily winces in pain curling in on himself.

“Hey! Shinji hang in there!” Akihiko yelps as Shinjiro’s eyes flutter shut, his eyelids squeezing tight in excruciating pain. 

“Aki. Stop, there’s nothing you can do,” Shinjiro bites, opening his eyes for a split second to glare at Akihiko with desperation.

“I’m not letting this happen- not again,” he says, voice cracking in between words. “It already happened to Miki and I swore, I made a promise to myself it wouldn’t happen to you too.” Shinjiro grimaces at his words and turns his head to look up at the sky.

“This is how it should be.”

Akihiko tenses up immediately, face turning red in anger, “No- no, no, no.” He repeats like a mantra, “This is not how it should be or whatever bullshit you think is right! You can’t die. You can’t.” Shinjiro takes a stuttered breath and looks away from Ken and him. Akihiko hasn’t cried in years, not since Miki, but at this moment hot tears form and threaten to fall. He knows he has to do something or else Shinjiro will die from blood loss, when he remembers the one thing this Dark Hour is good for. Panickedly, Akihiko unclasps his evoker from the holster at his side in one swift movement to cast a Diarama with Polydeuces, immediately dropping it in shock when he hears several dissonant cries from nearby. 

Akihiko twists suddenly to see the rest of S.E.E.S. approaching afar at breakneck speeds. Mitsuru is at his side first, ever the pragmatist she immediately begins assessing the gunshots with a critical eye. “We need to get him to a hospital! He’s bleeding everywhere!” Fuuka stutters.

“The Dark Hour doesn’t end for another fifteen minutes,” Aigis says stiffly and she kneels close to examine the pool of gore on the concrete. “Shinjiro-san will not make it if he continues to bleed.” Everyone blanches at Aigis’s matter of fact statement, staring dumbfounded at one another. 

Yukari falls to Akihiko’s left and whips out her evoker, firing it against her head with an explosion of blue crystals and a shout of Diarama. Io appears over her head as a soft green light shines over Shinjiro, his wounds healing a miniscule amount. “We just need to keep him stable until the Dark Hour ends, right? I think we might have enough energy combined with Mitsuru, Akihiko, Minato, Fuuka, and I to cast a couple more, and then we can get him to the hospital,” Yukari chews on her lip, raising her evoker to cradle in her palm. 

“That might just work, Takeba,” Mitsuru says, a shred of relief flooding her face. Akihiko knows that it won’t be a foolproof solution, but it might help, even just a little to save Shinjiro’s life. All those with healing skills quickly gather around Shinjiro, who has begun to stir, blearily blinking up at the people surrounding him. Ken moves away to let Fuuka take over the healing and he sits against the brick walls with a scarily blank face. The shots of the evokers ring loudly in the quiet alley with their personas occupying the air surrounding them. 

Fifteen excruciating minutes pass with nothing but spell after spell, until Shinjiro is only half awake surviving on the skills of the others alone. Akihiko isn’t aware that he has been sobbing in relief until he feels a reassuring hand stained with crimson grasp his own. His head snaps to the owner of the hand, Shinjiro. “Aki,” he murmurs, holding eye contact. “Whatever happens, take care of him for me.”

Shinjiro and Akihiko turn their sight to Ken who is curled into a ball with Koromaru and Junpei attempting, and failing to comfort him; and at that moment, the lights of Port Island turn on.


	2. Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO sorry for not updating this for awhile i hit writers block and i am trying to make the chapters longer!! I'll try to update more frequently if i can!!

“Junpei! Call an ambulance immediately!” Mitsuru orders, switching from her evoker to attempting to help the blood clot naturally with the free scrap of cloth provided by her ribbon. Akihiko looks back at Shinjiro whose face has gone almost completely slack and pale. He feels a spike of panic before he checks Shinjiro’s pulse, which is continuing albeit slowly. Junpei has taken out his flip-phone and is incessantly giving the operator on the other end details of the circumstances, barring the fact that he was shot during a time no one is awake by a ghastly, deranged, half-naked man. He continues on the call for a few moments longer before lapsing into silence as the alarm of an ambulance echoes in the distance.

“Can everyone hand me their evokers and weapons?” Fuuka asks quietly as to not be overheard by the operator and anyone nearby. Yukari glances up from where she’s attempting to patch the wound on Shinjiro’s chest with the help of Akihiko and quirks an eyebrow. “I don’t think we want the ambulance showing up to see a man with bullet wounds and several people with what appears to be guns and a variety of weapons,” she says, tucking her evoker away into a small satchel she brought with her. The group nods in understanding as Minato assists with Fuuka stashing the most obvious items away.

“We’ll take these back to the dorm, inform the Chairman of the incident, and meet you at the hospital,” Minato states in a monotone voice, swinging the duffel bag of medicine, armor, weapons, and supplies over his shoulder casually. “It’s probably best Aigis comes with us because … y’know,” he shrugs, loosely waving his free hand in her direction. Without removing his eyes from Shinjiro, Mitsuru verbally affirms their plans and Minato leaves with Aigis and Fuuka in tow. Akihiko notices at that second, Shinjiro’s cold hand is still grasping his own, his request still lingering in the air like a thick fog.

He knows Shinjiro won’t hear him, but he still responds regardless. “I will, I’ll take care of him. No matter what,” Akihiko mumbles under his breath, squeezing Shinjiro’s hand as he does. Seconds later, the high-pitched wailing of the ambulance approaches at the end of the alley and several paramedics rush in almost immediately, tearing Shinjiro away from the few members of S.E.E.S. still occupied with healing. Akihiko watches in stunned silence as they hurriedly strap Shinjiro to a backboard, rushing him into the vehicle whilst checking his vitals. A small part of him wants to reach out to the closest paramedic, to attempt to convince them to allow him to come in the ambulance with his best friend, but he knows it’s useless to try. He heaves a sigh through his dry throat as the ambulance rushes away with one medical professional remaining at the scene. The remaining person is a young woman with short navy hair that looks very much like an intern accompanied by a vacant stare as she strolls forwards casually to the remaining group of Akihiko, Mitsuru, Junpei, Yukari, Ken, and Koromaru. Akihiko fidgets with the end of his vest, wondering exactly how they’re going to lie their way out of this as fast as possible to get to the hospital. His answer is in the form of Mitsuru.

“I’ll handle this, stay close,” Mitsuru says in a low tone, striding forward to greet the young woman as Akihiko follows behind. 

The woman shifts back and forth from her toes to heels, a pen in her right hand and a clipboard in her left. “So, uh,” the woman, Akihiko glances at her nametag where, Takemi, is printed in neat letters, “What happened here?” He notices Mitsuru pause for a split second to spin a convincing lie in her head while Takemi leans to inspect the red covering the floor and nearly all of their clothes. 

“Our friend, Shinjiro Aragaki was shot twice, once in his thigh and once in his chest. We were planning on meeting him here to go to...” Mitsuru halts for a brief moment, “the movies. I heard gunshots and saw him on the ground not far away in this alley. We attempted to cover and apply pressure to the wounds for as long as possible,” she finishes, her diplomatic tone never wavering. Takemi seems to be startled by Mitsuru’s matter-of-fact manner of speaking, but quickly ducks her head down to jot notes.

“Well, that covers most of it,” Takemi twirls the pen absentmindedly , “Just a couple more things and you kids are pretty much free to go, but your friend, does he have any medical conditions or take any medications we need to know about,” she asks looking up to the duo. Akihiko freezes, and shoots a glance at Mitsuru. 

“No-,” Mitsuru begins, calm as ever before being abruptly cut off.  
“Yes. He does,” Akihiko says in a strained voice, he can tell Mitsuru is staring at him, but he continues onward. “There are these pills he takes, I don’t really know what’s in them, but um- it could be important. They should be in one of his coat pockets,” he mumbles, shuffling his shoes against the ground.

Takemi gives a curt nod, “Thanks, I’ll inform the medical staff so they don’t give him anything that hurts him, y’know?” She gives Akihiko a brief wave, pulling out her phone as she heads off in the direction of the hospital. Akihiko doesn’t have to look at Mitsuru’s face to tell that she’s displeased. 

“Akihiko,” she begins in that voice of hers that tells she isn’t mad, just disappointed.

“I know we don’t know what’s in the suppressants and if it could be dangerous for people without knowledge of all this to learn about, but that’s not important right now Mitsuru,” he clenches his fists as Mitsuru goes silent, he can tell the others are gawking, but he doesn’t have it in him to care. “I’m heading to the hospital, don’t wait on me.” 

They watch as he leaves. They follow.

There’s a lot of things Akihiko would describe himself as, patient is not one of them. The air reeks of bleach and antiseptic, the plastic seats are uncomfortably cold, the only warmth coming from where Ken is sitting by his side. He bounces his leg, hearing the hard tap of his shoe against the floor as he gazes at his gloved hands still caked in Shinjiro’s blood. A nurse had attempted to convince Akihiko to throw away his stained gloves and clothes to no avail, Ken on the other hand isn’t as lucky with his trademark orange jacket being forsaken to the trash. 

Ken’s hands are clenched tightly on his lap with shoulders hunched, he refuses to look at Akihiko or the remainder of the group. Minato and Aigis are as stoic as ever compared to Yukari and Fuuka at his side, both of whom are nervously fidgeting in their seats. Mitsuru is farther away from the rest of the group, eyes trained on the doors further down the hall, Junpei sitting close to her fiddling with his necklace and teeth worrying at his lip.

With each tick of the clock Akihiko bounces his leg faster, nerves infecting every part of his body until he can’t see anything in his vision save for Shinjiro’s pale face, devoid of life, bleeding out on his lap and dying with only a promise. A promise he isn’t sure he can keep. He shuts his eyes, inhaling deeply to fill his lungs. He’s better than this, stronger than this, Shinjiro isn’t gone yet. He can’t be. Akihiko exhales, glancing up at the mocking hands of the clock against the offwhite walls recognizing he’s been in this sickeningly sterile waiting room for nearly two hours with no word from any of the doctors. Well, no news is good news he supposes, rubbing away sleep from his eyes with his non-stained sleeve. 

“Akihiko,” a voice says from above him. Mitsuru, her head tilted to the side with eyes darting away, arms crossed defensively over her chest with uncharacteristic tension. “May I speak to you outside?” she cocks her head towards the sliding glass doors only a few feet away. He considers her request for a moment, it is a possibility that he could miss the doctor if they came in with news regarding Shinjiro’s condition but they would be just a shout away. A sigh releases from his mouth as he rises to his feet feeling his stiff vertebrae in his back click. 

The doors part given way to the brisk October air, the sky is cloudless and the moon lingers overhead. Akihiko stills when he reaches a location to be able to see everything happening in the hospital waiting room clearly. “What do you want?” he bites harsher than he intended, despite this Mitsuru fails to react. 

She doesn’t uncross her arms although she finally makes eye contact. “I know this may be...uncomfortable to speak about at the moment,” Mitsuru scuffs the toe of her expensive leather boots against the ground, “But I ask you to hear me out.”

He hesitates, straightening his posture with mouth drawn in a thin line. “Fine, but make it brief.”

“When- If Shinjiro makes it out of surgery there is still the matter of his condition and how it will affect him overall,” her expression is clouded with an emotion he can’t quite pinpoint.

“I’m assuming you’re talking about the suppressants,” Akihiko states bitterly, pulling at the threads of his sweater to quell the emotions rising up.

“Yes, in addition to the possible repercussions from the shooting. We don’t know for sure if he’ll be the same,” a grim frown passes her lips as she stares at the dark night with brows furrowed. A pang of fear strikes through Akihiko’s chest, contemplating what exactly she means by Shinjiro never being the same. Mitsuru notices his confusion, “In the alleyway he lost a large amount of blood, coupled with the shots to his chest and leg...it’s very likely he’ll have some sort of permanent injury to his body,” she stalls, dreading to say what she believes is the truth, “...due to the hemorrhaging, brain damage is a possibility.” Hot tears swell in Akihiko’s eyes and he leans back his head to prevent himself from displaying weakness in front of her.

Mitsuru is silent when Akihiko rubs his tear-stained face, running his free hand through his choppy white hair “Sorry, I should be stronger than this,” he chokes. The air is still, broken only by the clicking of heels across the pavement. He attempts to keep it together as much as possible, only breaking when he feels a pair of tentative arms wrap around his torso.

Akihiko has cried more within the past few days than he has in several years, his face twists into an ugly sob, the salt drawing trails down his cheeks. Full body trembles course through his body, turning him into such a panicked mess that he can hardly intake any oxygen. The small, belligerent part of his mind screams to push Mitsuru away, to give into his irrational wrath and blame her for dragging him and Shinjiro into this convoluted mess all these years ago. The resentment dies out pitifully like a smothered fire, Mitsuru tightening her comforting hold around him and rubbing gentle circles on his back. 

Moments pass till thin hands trails down to clench his forearms, the shine of unshed tears reflecting in the glow of the moonlight, “Akihiko, we’ve been friends for only a few years now, but you have been my most dear confidant for so long. I’m aware I am not the most emotionally intelligent person, nevertheless I hope you know how much I care about you and Shinjiro and how I will do anything for you two,” she says seriously, tone quavering, eyebags wet with desperation. A beat passes and Mitsuru recollects herself, dusting her black skirt lightly with eyes averted. “I called several of the Kirijo Group’s most qualified doctors roughly thirty minutes ago, they’re on their way to do what they can to save him,” she pauses, “and if it’s okay with you I plan on mailing out samples of the suppressants to our lab in hopes to find a solution that’ll cure Shinjiro and Chidori.” Mitsuru gives him a strained smile, one that Akihiko returns gratefully.  
“...I don’t want to seem too hopeful, but Shinjiro is one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met, he won’t fall to this.” 

They fall quiet, melancholy looks painted on their faces.

“Stubborn as a mule,” he laughs.

“As if you aren’t the same way, Akihiko.”  
Akihiko’s lips part in surprise, breaking into an amused grin that chases away some of his lingering nerves. Mitsuru returns a timid smile back at him, smile dropping as she looks through the hospital doors. He notices her change in mood, turning to see a refined looking doctor peering at the lobby with shrewd eyes. The entryway opens automatically at Akihiko’s movement as he takes several brisk steps towards the man, desperation twisting his stomach into knots.

“Are you Sanada-san?” the doctor asks, voice carefully neutral.

“Yes, yes I am, is Shinji-”

“You’re listed as Aragaki-san’s next of kin and emergency contact,” the doctor eyes the others occupying the room who are on the edge of their seats with eager anticipation, “...I will disclose what I am able to regarding his state, but yes, he is alive and stable for the time being.” 

Relief washes over Akihiko’s body, his rigid shoulders slumping accompanied by a sliver of hope entering back into his worldview. 

“There is some bad news,” the doctor straightens his posture, the sliver of hope diminishing considerably. “Aragaki-san has fallen into a coma due to his extreme blood loss, it is uncertain if or when he will wake up,” he hesitates temporarily, “In addition to this, there is a high possibility of permanent damage to his leg and brain.” A part of Akihiko knew this would happen, but that fact doesn’t do anything to decrease how powerless he feels.

“Can I see him?” he asks the doctor, uncharacteristically apprehensive.

“I apologize Sanada-san, but it is best he is left alone for at least a day. The surgery was extremely hard on his body and needs to recover.”

A bitter taste crawls on his tongue, but he clamps his mouth shut begrudgingly anyways.  
He immediately feels like he needs to punch something. 

A hand lightly touches his shoulder, “Thank you, we’ll all be going now, please inform us if there is any news,” Mitsuru says with polite confidence. The doctor nods, turning to speak to one of the receptionists as he does. She shoots Akihiko a look from the corner of her eye that communicates everything she means.

Not now. Later.

Mitsuru turns sharply, red hair flaring over her shoulders as she stalks out with what Akihiko can tell is meticulously practiced confidence. The remainder of S.E.E.S. files out the hospital doors with genuine trepidation, sharing anxious looks with one another. Akihiko stills, if only for a moment to see Ken frozen with puffy eyes unwavering from the shaking hands in his lap. He’s at a loss for what to do when a distant memory tugs at his heartstrings. 

The night a month after their parents died Akihiko is stirred awake by the loud creak of a floorboard echoing feebly through the cramped room. He rolls from his side onto his back, propping himself up onto his elbows to identify the source of the noise more out of curiosity than anything. The source of the noise is a five year old girl clutching onto scratchy off-white sheets with a ratty stuffed rabbit tucked under her arm, the girl’s shock of choppy white hair is in stark contrast with her beet-red face swollen with tears. “Miki?” Akihiko asks, his little sister turns to him with a mortified expression that softens when she realizes who has spoken. Without another word Akihiko shuffles the short distance to Miki’s bed where she instinctively reaches for him, pulling him down to the floor with her with warm hands slightly damp from tears. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Miki stares at the sheets, plucking at a loose thread with uneven nails. “No,” she mumbles faintly, eyes trailing to her plush which she picks up with dainty hands to cradle in her arms. Akihiko wraps his arm around her shoulders and she leans into her brother’s hold, sniffling. The siblings are quiet, listening to the chirping crickets from outside the window and the rustling of paper-thin curtains in the wind. “Can you promise me that you’ll never leave me?” Miki breaks the silence with desperation, “Not like- not like mommy and daddy?” At seven years old, Akihiko’s heart shatters like glass as Miki’s tears fall to stain her stuffed rabbit. 

“I promise, I’ll take care of you no matter what. I’ll never leave you,” he holds out his pinky finger as an offering that Miki accepts readily.

“No matter what?

“No matter what.”

“Aki,” he murmurs, holding eye contact. “Whatever happens, take care of him for me.”

Akihiko shudders at the memory and takes a breath to stabilize himself before making a split second decision. “Ken?” he questions softly, voice barely being heard over the buzz of the air conditioning. Ken flinches at the sound of his voice, curling in on himself ever so slightly, head snapping up to meet Akihiko’s worried eyes. Ken doesn’t grace him with a response although he does stand with shaky knees, legs nearly buckling as he does. He steadies himself on a nearby plastic chair, taking a second to regain his balance before striding forward. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks as gently as he can despite knowing the answer already. Ken pauses before shaking his head, tawny hair rustling at the sudden movement. Akihiko shifts uncomfortably when a small hand grips his own, he glances down at Ken who is staring straight ahead with his jaw clenched. Akihiko doesn’t dare say anything as he leaves the hospital with Ken at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just take it


End file.
